


Kisses?????

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: How to get rid of unwanted attention





	Kisses?????

**Author's Note:**

> Love silly fics like this. Easy to write

I'm on my lunch break at my favorite store of all, a bookstore, with two books in hand, charge card ready.

I recognize a tall, lanky man with curly hair at the check-out counter. I know his reputation and I'm starstruck. Moving up close to him, I tap his shoulder,"Excuse me, aren't you Sherlock-."

Before I can finish my sentence my coat is grabbed by his large hand and I'm dragged out of the store. 

          "Wait, stop, what the fuck are you doing?" 

I'm pulled, drawn along into an alley where garbage smells assault me. Knocked against the wall of a building his body against mine he kisses me, let's go.

          "Put that in your newspaper."

He walks away quickly enough that I stand breathless, caught off guard with his unusual behavior.

* * *

I stand dazed and remember I have two books that are unpaid for.

          "Good thing you came back, I was calling the police."

          "Sorry, I-uh-got distracted."

          "Did you know that gentleman? He was awful rough on you."

          "It's okay. Here," giving my card to him," let me pay for these."

A few minutes pass before I feel back to normal. 

* * *

I'm supposed to meet DI Greg Lestrade on one of his homicide cases. As a doctor with a small clinic, I've worked with the police many times. Greg Lestrade finds my analysis very much on point.

* * *

Not thinking about anything but the case I enter the station nodding at the officers and without a conscious thought, I step into Greg's office,-my eyes widen, jaw drops- there stands Sherlock Holmes. 

I know he also works with the police, but this is the first time we've crossed paths. The surprise is likewise written all over him.

          "What are you doing here? Everyone is thrown off when I kiss them. Following me around like a little puppy dog?

          "Go back to your little hovel and remember that the great Sherlock Holmes kissed you."

He strides out of the office, coat swirling around him before I can utter a word.

* * *

          "What was that all about, the kissing, I mean. Did he really kiss-?" Greg, half laughing and half serious.

          " Don't pay him no mind," trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. 

          "Let's get to work. We have a homicide to solve."

          "Oh, yeah. Sherlock Holmes took care of it. Thanks anyway, but-"

Confused, I turn to leave.

          "John, er, anything-um."

          "Nevermind, I have to get home. Afternoon, Greg."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I catch Greg giving me peculiar looks.

* * *

          "Hey, John, don't forget we're meeting for drinks tomorrow night."

My back turned, almost out of the office, "Yep, I'll be there," and I step out.

* * *

The clinic today is full, flu season is upon us, and I'm getting overwhelmed with clients. Taking a break in my office, my white coat off, I sit quietly and try to eat my lunch. Halfway through my sandwich, there's a commotion outside my door.

'What now,' as I get up and walk out with a pad in hand, not realizing it, I see the Sherlock with police surrounding him.

          "Don't know why I'm here. Nothing but surface wounds."

* * *

Noticing me, he looks as puzzled as am I. This is the man who can deduce what you ate for breakfast three days ago and has yet to realize I'm a doctor. The nurse takes him to a room where I enter.

          " You must be getting your adrenaline high from this."

* * *

He still assumes I'm a reporter. Before I can explain what I'm doing here, or look at his bloodied face he invades my space, face closing in, kisses me, this time his tongue pushes at my lips until my mouth opens.

* * *

          "Stop acting like a fanboy. I've given you enough gratification to last your puny life."

And he walks out of the room, slamming the door behind, a nurse opening the door a second later, looking behind her," he left? No treatment?"

          "No, Janet, he refused any kind of doctoring."

Lunch is forgotten for the moment, I am astounded by these meetings and the results. Why does Sherlock think that kissing me, or any reporter would be of value?

Like the lightbulb going off, I get it! He thinks that kissing a man, a reporter, will throw them off. And they won't report it in the papers because everyone would think the reporter is gay.

Brilliant! And it works! I won't tell anyone either! I'm not gay!

* * *

Meeting with Greg and his colleagues at the pub this night I'm in a peculiar mood. Can't place it, but slightly edgy.

The inside seems more crowded than usual, but we have our customary table. The owner, Bob, always saves this one for us. It's dark, loud, and cramped. But we love it. There's a beer waiting for me, taking my seat. Greg, Sally, Phil, and surprise of surprises, Molly from the morgue at Barts.

It's hard to talk most of the time, what with the telly's screaming out the rugby game and the soccer game.

Greg leans into my ear, "What's with this about a kiss from Sherlock? It's been bugging me all day. That guy is so emotionless, even to me who's known him for years. What happened?"

There's a bit of a leer on his face.

          "I think he was joking around. There was no kiss."

          "Sherlock? Crack a joke? No way!"

Without another word, I swivel in my seat to chat with Mollie, who's sitting on the other side of me looking out of place, twiddling her glass.

* * *

The flu epidemic has me working all hours. I'm exhausted!

* * *

The night air is chilly but I need the walk to wake up my body before going home. 

There's a wonderful bakery down the street and I make my way to it.

Walking into this place is heaven! Aromas of bread, cinnamon, chocolate and all else sweet hits the nostrils.

I want gooey, chocolate. I pick out chocolate buttermilk biscuits and two chocolate cupcakes with strawberry filling.  
Out of the back room, the owner strolls and- following her, there he is!

          "This will do fine, Marie, and-," he spots me, a scowl appearing.

Paying for the sweets, not meeting his face I slip out.

Damn! He's right behind me!

          "Step over here," his commanding baritone voice utters.

I follow into the recessed doorway of a clothing store, that is not open right now.

Box in one hand, he lifts my jaw, bends toward me and licks at my lips, lingering, heated as my mouth involuntarily opens.

          "Hmm," he hums into me, sending shock waves down to my toes.

Pushing away quickly he leaves. Leaves me motionless, overwhelmed with emotions unknown to me.

I'm flushed, my cheeks hot.

* * *

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It became a game of mine.

To kiss any reporters who insisted on pursuing me. Only when they were on their own.

Certainly, put them off and abandoned me promptly.

I made a flagrant mistake in deducing the man I kissed at the bookstore was an obnoxious newsman. How unorthodox of me!

Why didn't I observe he was a doctor from the inception?

It wasn't until our contact at the clinic that I surmised I had been inaccurate.

The convergence of the three trysts did imply a connection. I am captivated by this man and want to experience further contact. I ponder on this whilst sitting in my chair at my flat.

Continuing in this vein would be most humorous.

I'll trail him and startle him each time to prolong this enterprise.

How he acts will be a study of human connections. Suspecting bisexual leanings an investigation would continue my research on the subject.

* * *

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tired! So tired! Working 14 hours a day makes one groggy.

I finally got chased out by the nurses and told to get bed rest.

But I'm walking the streets, no shuffling, my feet not taking me far.

A movie house is down the street.

Good idea! I don't worry what is playing. Want to sit and if I fall asleep no one will notice, not if I sit in the back.

Paying the clerk the playbill says it's Doctor Strange. If it was the abominable snowman I couldn't bother.

The back row has no one. Taking off my coat I drape it around my legs and shoulders.

Hunching down I close my eyes, and even with the cacophony of the show I feel myself drifting to sleep.

* * *

A nudge on my shoulder awakens me.

          "Shame you didn't watch this film. He's one of my favorite actors."

Rotating in his seat to tilt into me, those lips find mine, again, and oh damn, I discover myself pulling his neck down towards me, acting without thought, the thrill flowing into me-and then-it hits me-what am I doing!

Turning away from him, I bounce off my seat, clambering over into the aisle and quickly exit the theatre.

* * *

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Yes, he is suitably invested in me!

Until, of course, he comprehends the reality of what he's performing and with who.

Must persist in this charade.

* * *

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
I swear I'm going mad.

How, the devil, with all the other places in London, could he have been there, in the theatre.

* * *

And why in gods name am I letting him get away with this! This kissing thing he's got!

Wait! He's been following me! He wants me! For his bedmate! No, no, no!

* * *

Next time, and I sure there will be, I will let him know that if he persists I will have him arrested.

Yes, that's it! That's what I'll do.

* * *

For now, at least, my first objective is to continue these long hours, taking care of my patients. I've not been to the pub with the guys in weeks.

* * *

But the epidemic is slowing down. I'm back to almost normal working hours and this Tuesday I decide to join Greg and whoever at the pub.

          "Aha, look who's here! Man, you looked pooped! Have one on me," straightening up and going to the bar. 

With a drink in hand, I salute Greg, Phil, and Sally.

          "Good to be here again. It's been a struggle but things have calmed down." 

Looking around I notice no Molly.

          Hey, what happened with Molly? Has she been around?"

          "Molly found herself a boyfriend."

Grins go around the table. It's a good evening and I determine to call it early. I still need some rest.

Leaving the pub I notice a taxi at the front. Out pops Sherlock.

          "You require an expeditious way home," waving his hand at the open taxi.

          "Oh no, no, you're not luring me into this taxi. I know what you want."

          "Do you presume I would inappropriately abuse you within the confines of this vehicle with another person observing?"

I guess, shrugging my shoulders, it does seem rather silly to think that anything would happen, but-.

I slide in and Sherlock proceeds to follow. He gives my address to the driver. Of course, he knows my address!

Peering out the window I see his reflection.

He's got the curliest dark hair, with sculpted cheekbones. I know beneath the coat he's quite slim.

We reach my flat and I turn the handle to open, but he plucks me back, turning me towards him with his hands on my shoulders.

The kiss this time is soft, his hands on my cheeks.

I almost pull away but the temptation is too great.

My hands stray to his hair, my fingers entangled.

* * *

How long we stay this way? I don't know, but my adrenaline is up, my brain is muddled.

          "Now go, and remember, it was the great Sherlock-"

          "Yea I know. The great Sherlock, blah, blah, blah."

Opening the door, forgetting about paying, the taxi pulls away.

* * *

In the flat, I make tea, take it into my bedroom, off my clothes and sit up in bed, book in hand to read. I can't.

Keep thinking about that last kiss.

What is it about him? Why is my heart doing flip-flops when I encounter him?

Of course, those lips, yes those lips.

* * *

Reading forgotten as I run my tongue over my lips, tasting him, still able to smell his scent. John, he's getting to you!

* * *

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was mystifying to me!

I relished in his embrace.

His fingers in my hair awakened a thirst for more, to persist, to draw out this moment.

* * *

Am I obsessing like I do with cocaine? Is he my new preoccupation?

The time has come to bring this to a conclusion.

* * *

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
My mobile rings.

Don't recognize but decide to pick up.

          "Hello?"

          "Dinner tomorrow night. Angelos at six."

He's not asking, he's telling me. The git.

          "Yes, I'll be there."

He clicks off, and I look at my phone incredulously.

I'm a fool.

Running to his beck and call.

* * *

Angelos, it is at six.

* * *

He's already spread out in a chair, legs crossed, gloves off and on the table.

          "Okay, Sherlock," placing myself in a chair, "what is this game you're playing?"

          "I deem it would be a suitable match to be business partners.The detective and the doctor."

* * *

Giving it a moment's thought it sounds feasible.

          "And, a friendship," an upturned grin, a twinkling of those grayish color eyes.

          "A friendship?"

My hand sliding over his.

          "Shall we kiss on it?"


End file.
